


Creatures Like Us

by liquidengineers



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Adventure, Alien Culture, Alien Planet, Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic, Eventual James T. Kirk/Spock, First Kiss, Footnotes, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Mystery, Original Character Death(s), Pre-Slash, Slash, Survival, Trapped, Worldbuilding, redshirt death, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27813463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidengineers/pseuds/liquidengineers
Summary: After happening upon the long-abandoned shell of a research vessel - orbiting a strange and uncharted planet - Jim Kirk decides to take a shuttle down to the planet's surface to try to work out what happened to the crew. Quickly becoming trapped, Kirk, Spock and their small cohort have to survive in an unfamiliar world. As they begin to piece together the story of the abandoned research vessel, the story of the long-extinct native race also begins to surface.The ghosts of Aradin III carry secrets that have haunted the planet’s surface for centuries... secrets that desperately want to be told.TL;DR: Kirk & Spock become trapped on an alien planet together (survival/Verne-esque adventure... but eventually hella gay.)Suuuuper slow K/S slowburn; can be read as AOS or TOS, but was written with TOS in mind. This has literally been 3 years in the making, so hopefully it’s come together well haha. Much worldbuilding.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 19
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This thing has quite literally been three years in the making. Now that I've graduated college (y12 here in Aus), I can finally dedicate more time to it. The first five or so chapters + the plan has been sitting on my computer for soooo so long while I finished up school (the planning document is 52 pages long!!!!), so he's finally seeing the light of day and I couldn't be more proud. Chapters will be like 2000 words long, so manageable, but don't expect super regular updates as I have a few other ongoing fics as well.  
> Hope you enjoy!

James Tiberius Kirk was being haunted by a dream. 

He’d been haunted by it for some weeks now, like some spectre; or an omen. The image imprinted on the underside of his eyelids when he closed his eyes was a faceless man in blue standing rigid in the cockpit of his silver lady, limbs knotted tight with worry and hair tousled in a way that drew Kirk’s attention — though faceless, the man’s cheeks were flushed with anger and fear.

“If you have even an ounce of common sense, you know we must fight back,” the man would spit, and Kirk would catch a glimpse of a row of ships hovering against the shimmering stars before them. “They’ll lock you up until you live and talk and breathe like them, and if you refuse to conform they’ll lock you up all over again.”

The dream had never progressed past this moment. He’d wake with regret tingeing his breath, wondering what it all meant. Though it did intrigue him, he tried not to mull it over too much; after all, it didn’t have to mean anything if he didn’t want it to mean anything. _There’s always the inside, or the sodium light…_ [1]

Perhaps if Kirk _had_ possessed that ounce of common sense, he’d be trudging along in smart-toed shoes down that worn street of planetside jobs. Surrounded by a monotony of infinitely windowed buildings, held aloft by a concrete future yet weighed down by a meaningless life. He was never going to sit on his ass and accept such a life; god knows he would happily give that up a thousand times over to see the vast, star-speckled expanse sprawled beyond the viewscreen.

His apparent lack of common sense — fueled further by endurance of countless hours spent training — had paid off. It was the same spike of thrill that he’d experienced when he took his first shuttle off Earth all those years ago; the same spike of thrill that shot through him every time he sat in the captain’s Chair — it never faded. He’d latched onto that thrill and followed it through thick and thin.

And look where he was now.

How big is space, anyway? Infinite? A never-ending, sprawling expanse of luminous dust clouds and stars like a minty spray of toothpaste spat into a sink. Infinite space implies infinite possibilities; a million and one sets of reality in which the _Enterprise_ and her crew did not find that lonely little ship trapped in perpetual orbit around a forgotten planet, realities where they drifted on through smudged charcoal skies toward the starbase they were scheduled to dock at later that week; continuing on with their lives not knowing what ghosts haunt Aradin III.

Infinite possibilities imply infinite choice, and Kirk found it funny that despite the miniscule chance of things happening like they did against all other possibilities, it somehow managed to line up — one thing led to the next, and the choices piled up, and he found himself on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ , staring silently at that small ship hanging suspended in languid orbit around the final planet in a system that had long since been cast out of mind.

It started with Spock mentioning that the ship appeared to be in the later stages of a decaying orbit, as if it hadn’t tried to correct its position in years; they might not have given it a second glance in that little detail hadn’t surfaced. His interest peaked, Kirk soon found himself commanding the _Enterprise_ closer, to get a better look at this strange, silent vessel. It gleamed with the light of the system’s star as if to wink coyly at Kirk, whispering at him to come closer still. 

He glanced over to the stiff-backed figure of his first in command, nudging him with an elbow.

“What do you think, Spock, filled to the brim with angry Klingons?”

The Vulcan’s eyebrow quirked upwards. “I believe this is a Federation vessel, Captain. The size indicates a survey ship, or perhaps a small cargo vessel.”

“‘Small’ is giving it liberties,” Chekhov snorted from the front. “It’s tiny.”

It certainly was tiny, nothing like any ship Kirk had seen before. A glimmering metal smudge, framed by the viewscreen. It looked like it hadn’t seen care in decades — in fact, nothing on the ship betrayed any signs of recent use. No pin-pricks of lights from the few windows mounted on the sides, no perceivable signs of life. The ship drifted on, blissfully unaware of the small group of people pondering over it not a quarter of an astronomical unit away.

As they watched, the light of the sun pooled across the ship’s front, revealing her name in a decidedly cinematic fashion. Kirk read it aloud.

“The USS _Dayhoff_ [2] .” He sat back in his seat, gesturing to Uhura. “Can you open a channel?”

“On it, sir.”

“Captain, this looks like an Antares-type [3] ship, but as far as I recall, an Antares-type this small hasn’t been used in decades,” Sulu mentioned, peering at it curiously. “There was a mass recall, some fault in the design. I remember Scotty talking about it recently.”

Kirk tapped a finger against his knee. “Hmm — well, I guess we’ll have to ask Scotty himself, huh?”

Scotty recognised the ship almost immediately, his eyes lighting up excitedly. “Aye, she’s unmistakable, Captain. Early, manned research probe vessel — Starfleet used them from ‘35 to ‘38, cutting edge technology back then. Paved the way for the bigger, multipurpose Antares-type ships now. Wee things could get up to emergency warp 6, with a standard cruising speed of 4.5, which may seem insignificant now, but it was quite impressive at the time. There was massive backlash against giving a mere research vessel such top notch abilities. I’ve only ever seen diagrams, never one in the flesh.”

“Sulu mentioned that they were recalled. A design fault?”

Scotty chuckled. “They’re a bit of a legend in the engineering community; the only ships Starfleet has ever released possessing this particular design flaw that allowed for an almost impossible system failure where the inertial dampeners would go completely offline if the ship exceeded warp 5.”

“Well... that’s quite significant.” The inertial dampeners were the little gadgets that kept them all from smashing against the walls when entering warp speed — Kirk could imagine why that would have kicked up a fuss. “So, they were recalled?”

“Aye. Starfleet managed to issue a recall before any major accidents happened, but it caused a significant blow to their reputation, overlooking such a dangerous flaw. Even if it was extremely rare.”

“When did you say they were in use again?”

“2235 to ‘38. Starfleet was very careful to reclaim any and all registered vessels — it’d be very unlikely that this one got here anytime after that. I’m not even sure why it’s out here at all, given their history.”

“Do you reckon they might’ve...?”

“Discovered the flaw the hard way? No, not likely — they’re in orbit.”

“Right. I guess we can pit those years against the orbit decay and see if they line up,” Kirk mused. “Thanks, Scotty.”

“Ah, no problem, laddie. Glad to help.”

“Hey Spock, can you crunch the numbers — does the orbit decay match with the timeline Scotty’s just given us?”

Uhura made a small noise of what sounded like gruff surprise, or exasperation. “I’m... unable to open a channel.”

“They’re not responding? Figures.”

“No, no — it’s more like they just... don’t have a comms system. Or they’ve completely disabled it. I’m just not finding anything to connect to. If it’s intentional, they must have shut down their entire system. It’s deeper than just ignoring us.”

Kirk frowned. “That _is_ strange — I wouldn’t be surprised if there was no one on board to answer hails, but that does seem a little excessive.”

Spock spoke from behind them. “Captain — the trajectory of the ship and angle of depression from tail to nose[4] indicates that it is likely orbit was initiated approximately thirty years ago—”

“—Which aligns with Scotty’s recollection of the model,” Kirk finished. He shot Spock a grateful smile. “So, we’ve established that she’s been here for a few decades, at least. Now we need to work out _why_ she’s been here for that long. Maybe that’ll tell us why she seems so... dead.”

A brief yet heavy silence descended over the crew. Kirk took a deep breath, held it for a second, then spoke with its release. “Spock, can you check to see if there’s a ‘Dayhoff’ in Starfleet records around thirty years ago? Uhura, keep attempting communication. It’s a stretch, but if there’s any chance there’s someone still on there... Mr Chekhov, see if you can get us a bit closer; it might help.”

The heaviness dissipated — crew members scrambled to obey commands. The _Enterprise_ nudged forward, shortening the gap between her massive bulk and the _Dayhoff_ ’s sleek shape. Even up close, she seemed impossibly small; Kirk felt as if he could reach out and crush her between thumb and forefinger like a fly. He shook away the thought and busied himself by slipping out of the Captain’s Chair and moving toward each bridge station to check up on progress. 

“This is the USS _Enterprise_ to the USS _Dayhoff_ . Are you receiving our message, _Dayhoff_?” Uhura shot Kirk a disparaging look as he approached. “It’s no use, Captain, I can’t open a channel.”

“Just keep trying,” Kirk encouraged. She rolled her eyes.

His comm chirped. “Engineering to bridge.”

“This is Kirk, go ahead Scott.”

“Well, I’ve worked out why we can’t establish communication, anyway. The wee thing’s completely shut down — the warp core appears to be non-functional. All systems are offline, including communications.”

Uhura glanced up at Kirk with what he swore was a ‘told-you-so’ expression. “Permission to cease communication efforts, sir?”

“Yes, that... might be best,” he nodded. “Scotty — what do you mean, ‘non-functional’?”

“Non-functional as in non-functional. Completely dead. Nothing, not even a blip of functionality. I cannae tell you how recently it shut down, but if it’s been off for as long as the ship’s been here, then this old girl’s been unable to host life for decades.”

Kirk took a deep breath, absorbing this new information. “Spock, found anything that might help explain why? Anything interesting?”

Spock turned to face him, eyebrows raised. “‘Interesting is an… appropriate term, certainly. The USS _Dayhoff_ was declared officially missing in 2531, the full crew of 10 presumed dead.”

1\. Lament of the Banana Man (1956), Evan Jones. The narrator is saying they can't complain about their situation, and that there's always other options. I don't know how well I've communicated what I mean, but if you read the whole verse the point comes across quite clearly aha. [1]  
2\. Margaret Dayhoff was a computational scientist who pioneered in the field of bioinformatics by creating the first complete/large, publicly available, computer-based genetic database. My parents are both biologists and my mother can't sing her prayers loud enough, so I thought it'd be nice to name a ship after her :) [2]  
3\. Antares-type vessels were used in the 2260s; they were small, and occupied a range of types. They get their name from a manned vessel named the 'Antares' which showed up in the TOS episode 'Charlie X'. Somewhat irrelevant, but the unmanned robot ships carrying quadrotriticale in the TAS tribble episode were also Antares-type (More Tribbles, More Troubles happens to be one of my favourite TAS episodes -- that series is absolutely ridiculous lmao). The smaller, earlier type described here is purely made up for this story, but I wanted to use something similar to the Antares type for their size, crew complement and multipurpose use. [3]  
4\. Please don't fact check this aha, I couldn't find any good sources on calculating orbit decay so I took some artistic liberties and completely made it up ahaha [4]


	2. Chapter 2

“During a routine mission in 2237, the _Dayhoff_ reported a planned break from their original course to avoid a large cosmic dust cloud,” Spock relayed. “They believed their ship unfit for navigating the cloud, and Captain Isel Itotia wanted to take a safer, albeit slightly longer course.”

“Where were they when they made the report?” Kirk interjected. Spock paused for a second, eyes raking the screen.

“Approximately a parsec away. This report was the last communication with Starfleet before the ship was reported missing. Later inquiries made for the official case report were unable to find evidence of the ship communicating with any other vessels or planets after this message to Starfleet. Several investigations into the whereabouts of the ship and crew have been undertaken, but this was during the early years of the Federation-Klingon cold war[1], and Starfleet’s attention was primarily turned to both military and peace efforts being carried out by the Federation.”

Kirk sat back in his seat, watching the tiny ship before them. 

Spock turned away from his screen. “The case was ultimately closed in 2239, with very little development since the initial disappearance. The crew were presumed dead.”

It had been a good half hour since they’d first stumbled upon the lifeless body of the _Dayhoff_ as it continued its decades-long decaying orbit around Aradin III, yet they weren’t any closer to figuring out the mystery — if anything, they’d gotten further from the answers they sought. The influx of questions surrounding this strange, dead ship only served to fortify Kirk’s hunger to solve them.

“Captain?”

Kirk shook himself out of his thoughts to see Spock’s dark eyes watching him intently.

“Sorry?”

“I suggest we contact Starfleet immediately. They will want to log the rediscovery of the _Dayhoff_ under her file, perhaps even reopen the case.”

“That’s a great idea, Mister Spock. Uhura, can you send a message to Starfleet? Oh, and... pitch the idea of boarding the ship. Spock, meet me in the deck 14 briefing room.”

Often, Kirk found himself stepping back to marvel his crew. The _Enterprise_ was home to little over 400 individuals[2], a number that swamped what he may have been able to imagine as a child — even as a cadet, really. Now, sitting at the head of the deck 14 briefing room table, he felt the eyes of his crew on him and sensed a certain power that he hadn’t felt in a fair while.

“As you all probably know, we’ve come across the USS _Dayhoff_ , orbiting the third and final planet in the Aradin system. Now, while we have sufficient evidence that there is no one left on board the ship, the disappearance of the _Dayhoff_ some decades ago gives no indication for why the ship has been stuck here for so long, nor what may have happened to the crew,” he said, addressed the room with his hands flat against the table. “I’ve pitched the idea of boarding the ship to the Starfleet HQ.”

Kirk wasn’t surprised when Bones cut him off, looking less than amused.

“Now, wait just a moment, Jim. Is boarding this ship really a good idea? We don’t know what’s in there. It seems a little hasty to me, to be considering boarding before we’ve done some more scans, or sent a probe in, or whatever.”

“Oh, now, Bones, are you calling me impulsive? It feels like you’re calling me impulsive,” Kirk smiled, ignoring the doctor’s scowl. “I can’t say with any conviction whether the ship is safe or not, but I can say that if it’s cleared by Starfleet, the decision to board the ship is evidently something we shouldn’t panic over.”

In his mind, sunlight glimmered on _Dayhoff_ ’s tiny form. It beckoned him. “Scans or a probe wouldn’t be able to tell us anything we don’t already know. Life systems are down, so no oxygen nor comfortable temperatures. As far as we can tell, no lifeforms of any origin.”

The tell-tale chirp of the communicator silenced Kirk.

“Uhura to Captain Kirk.”

“Kirk here.”

“We’ve been given the all clear, Captain. Starfleet is just as curious about that ship as we are. They’re sending out backup, but it’ll take a while to get here; in the meantime, they want you to report every little detail back to them, no matter how insignificant.”

Kirk felt a smile creep over his face. “Thank you, Uhura. Well, sorry for the short meeting, gentlemen , but it’s adjourned. Scott, Bones, Spock, you’re with me. Oh, and don’t forget to suit up — if Scott’s right about everything being offline, the conditions in there won’t be the most comfortable to experience unprotected.”

Bones caught up to Kirk and Spock as they made his way to the transporter room, suited up.

“Jim, I’m not happy about this,” he scowled.

Kirk sighed. “Here we go,” he whispered to Spock.

“Don’t ‘here we go’ me! My unhappiness is perfectly justified, and you know it. For all you know, there could be an Arrakeen sandworm hiding inside that damn ship!” He brandished his helmet out like a weapon. “What use are these going to be if we’re getting mauled to death by giant flaps of flesh with teeth?”

Kirk patted his shoulder. “We can worry about that when it happens. Plus, you’ve already got the suit on.”

“And I’ve a good mind to go take it off!”

“Bones, Bones... relax. We’ll be fine.”

“If I die, I’m going to haunt you,” Bones muttered as he jammed his helmet over his head, slouching past Kirk onto the transporter pad with crossed arms. Kirk shot him a sweet smile.

The redshirt behind the console tapped at the control panel. “Due to their systems being offline, I can’t precisely locate the ship’s transporter — I can get you inside, but I only know what Scott’s told me of the interior layout, so it’ll be an approximation.”

“Oh goody,” Bones grumbled, “I can’t wait to be merged with a wall. This is gonna be a real fun adventure.”

Kirk grinned. “Everyone ready? Suits all done up? Alright, don your helmets, gentlemen. Ensign, energise.”

They beamed into nothingness. A weightless darkness engulfed him — Kirk was all too aware of the absence of solid floor beneath his feet and the cold pressure of airless hands squeezing him in tight embrace. He fought back panic, mind racing with possibilities as his eyes desperately sought out shapes in the dark. Had something gone wrong during transportation? Would he be forever trapped between two places, void of form? It had happened before [3] ; Kirk never wanted that to happen again. His finger brushed a warm object, and he grabbed onto it.

“Captain,” came the cool voice of his first in command — Kirk could have sworn it was edged with something akin to worry. “Are you hurt?”

Kirk steadied himself in the air, releasing Spock’s arm from his grip. “Just finding my space legs, Mister Spock.”

His eyes grew a little more accustomed to the darkness, and he was able to make out the faint form of the Vulcan floating in front of him. 

Scotty’s sheepish voice came from somewhere at the front of the shuttle. “Sorry, lads. I forgot to mention that the synthetic gravity systems are also offline.”

Kirk felt a rush of realisation, followed closely by a slight embarrassment at not drawing that conclusion sooner. “No harm done, Scotty. Bones, you still with us?”

“My damn insides are about to squirt out my every orifice.”

“As long as you’re not dead.” Kirk felt around his helmet, engaging the lighting mechanism. There was a nearly indistinguishable whirr, and their surroundings flickered into view as the lights blinked on. 

They found themselves in a corridor caked with disuse. Rust trailed up the walls like lace, glass shards from bust lights glittering where they hung suspended in the weightless air. Kirk reached out and swiped a gloved finger along the wall under one of the broken bulbs. He nudged Spock.

“Look, soot. The walls are singed under the lights.”

Scotty pushed off of the wall and drifted over to a door across from them. “Here’s the transporter — we were close. Door mechanism’s not working, of course. Doctor, help me open this.”

Pushing off the wall in a similar fashion to Scott, Bones wobbled through the air and narrowly missed a violent introduction to the doorframe. Scotty grabbed his arm, steadying him.

Kirk turned his head to look down the corridor. The shattered glass from the bust lights twinkled in the light from his helmet — a thousand sharp-edged stars hanging before him. All was silent, save for the sounds of Scotty and Bones forcing the door to the transporter.

Kirk cast a faint smile at Spock. “Do you think there’s ghosts, Mister Spock? No, don’t answer that — it was a joke.”

The Vulcan closed his mouth, brow knitted. Kirk patted his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Spock, it’s a well-known fact that ghosts are more scared of you than you are of them. Oh wait... actually, that might be snakes.”

Spock’s frown deepened. 

“Bones? We’re headed down to the bridge.” 

The only answer from engineering was a few muffled grunts and the sound of metal grating on metal. Spock tentatively guided himself into the field of glass shards before them, hands flush against the wall as he slowly pushed himself forward, possessing a level of control that Bones and Scotty had failed to maintain. The glass spiraled harmlessly away from the Vulcan’s body as he pushed through it gently, twinkling in the light of his helmet.

“We must move carefully, Captain,” he spoke over his shoulder. It certainly was the safest way to move through the glass-filled air, albeit lacking grace. Kirk moved toward the wall and pressed his hands against it. 

“Right behind you, Spock.”

Entering the bridge was bizarre. What had been an exciting adventure not five minutes ago now turned into a strange ache within Kirk’s chest. Something about the way blooms of rust had overtaken the captain’s Chair, the way the helm sat empty and deserted, like it still ached for a crew it had lost so many years ago... it struck a chord deep within Kirk’s gut, that resounded through his body. It was a picture of abandonment, a picture that he found himself living and breathing in.

He could see the _Enterprise_ through the viewscreen, a monster against the stars. His mind was spirited back to that moment in his recurring dream, standing on the bridge facing that row of strange ships; even those seemed colossal, compared to his tiny form. Humans were so small, yet commanded such big entities…

Glass shards hit his helmet gently as he drifted toward the viewscreen, watching cloud formations wrap around the planet below. The bridge of the _Dayhoff_ had an uncomfortably haunting effect on him.

“The escape pods are gone,” Spock mentioned, making Kirk start out of his thoughts. He gestured to the side of the bridge, drawing Kirk’s attention to a row of smooth, empty furrows in the metal, where the ship’s mandatory bridge escape pods would usually be nestled. 

There was the clamour of glass _ping_ ing against helmets from the corridor outside; Scott and Bones drifted through the bridge door, evidently still having trouble at getting the hang of moving about in zero gravity. Scott gestured back the way they had come with a thumb.

“We went to engineering. Tried to access the ship logs, sir, but everything’s completely fried. It’s like some sort of colossal power surge went through the system. I might be able to get something out of the logs, but I cannae be sure how legible it’ll be.”

Bones cut in, hands gripping the captain’s Chair to steady himself. “The escape pods in engineering and sick bay are gone.” He glanced over to the wall. “These ones as well. That’s ten in total.”

“Well, at least we know what happened to the crew.” Kirk swept his eyes over the three floating in front of him, his gaze finally landing on Spock’s dark irises. The Vulcan nodded, turning his head to watch the planet spin silently before them.

“They went down to the surface.”

1\. The Federation-Klingon cold war had escalated by the 2230s, and then lasted another seventy or so years. Disputes with the Klingons tied to the war can be seen everywhere in TOS. I'm not sure what Starfleet's role in the cold war was, but when all-out war broke out in 2267, Starfleet were utilised as a militia and secret service, so I assume aspects of this applied in the cold war. There's a good many episodes that take place in the cold war, as TOS' timeline falls within the cold war and the TOS movies fall after the war broke out, so there's probably more info on what Starfleet did in the cold war out there (I just can't be bothered to find it :)) [1]

2\. The crew complement of the Enterprise actually changes quite drastically over the course of TOS, which was a little tricky for me when it came to finding info for an accurate crew complement. This fic is set in the 2260s, and luckily in the episode 'Charlie X', set in 2266, Kirk confirms that there are over 400 crew members. [2]

  
3\. S3 Ep9, 'The Tholian Web' sees Kirk trapped in interphase as he tries to beam out of a ship phasing into interspace. This is portrayed by Kirk appearing as a ghost-like figure every now and again before disappearing, unable to communicate with the crew and moving around as if he's lost/trying to find his way. It's kinda creepy actually, and one of my favourite episodes aha. I'm kinda stoked that it actually fits into my timeline also!! [3]


	3. Chapter 3

Nurse Chapel fussed around them when they returned to the _Enterprise_ , side-stepping around them, brandishing her tricorder as if it were a fantastical weapon. Kirk brushed her off (much to the chagrin of Bones), eager to return to the bridge and turn the crew’s focus to the planet below. Salvaging the _Dayhoff_ ’s logs had ended up being a lost cause – Scotty had tried pretty much every trick he knew of and then some, but the ship’s circuits were so badly fried that he doubted the logs even still existed.

“It’d take something pretty strong to obliterate the system like that,” the engineer had mused on the way back. “No wonder she was completely non-functional.”

Kirk gestured to Uhura as he stepped onto the bridge, Spock in tow. “Contact Starfleet. We suspect some sort of power surge incapacitated the ship, forcing the crew to take escape pods down to the planet. Let them know we’ll be beaming down to the planet to investigate. Spock, see if you can find any information about this planet.”

He swung into his chair, unable to help the excited grin that crawled onto his features as he caught sight of the planet out the main window. “Sulu, initiate orbit. I’ve asked Mister Scott for a full scan of the planet, it’ll be easier if we’re up close.”

Kirk sat back in the Chair, levelling his eyes on the planet once more. As the _Enterprise_ slid into orbit beside the shell of the _Dayhoff_ , the planet grew in the viewscreen; he could make out their delicate swirling patterns of the clouds above what little swathes of land sat amongst cerulean oceans.

Spock straightened from his stoop over the computer and turned to address Kirk, voice level. “Starfleet has little to no records on this planet, excepting the name of the star — Aradin. It appears to be a class M planet [1] , with no observed intelligent life. No attempt at beaming down to this planet was ever made. It appears that routine air quality checks made by rudimentary probes were filed under the name ‘Aradin III’.”

“Figures,” Kirk mumbled. It made sense that a planet this far out would be completely forgotten about, even if it was an uninhabited class M — evidently, Aradin III had been one of those neglected few. “It looks, what, eighty percent water? Ninety percent?”

“Approximately,” Spock nodded, “We cannot be certain without proper analysis. The _Dayhoff_ ’s escape pods would have been equipped with manual steering columns  [2] . We should assume the crew made it to a body of land.”

Kirk bit his lip, frowning thoughtfully. “ _Which_ body of land is the question,” he pondered. “Do you think there’s any way to calculate where the pods may have ended up?”

“It would be inexact,” Spock said. “Theoretically, we could use the orbit decay to calculate which part of the planet the _Dayhoff_ would have been over, if we assume they were launched shortly after orbit was initiated. However, we cannot be certain which direction they will have piloted the pods after breaking the atmosphere.”

The comm chirped. “Scott to bridge. Captain, our scans have found something very strange.”

Kirk met Spock’s eyes. “You’d better come up to the bridge and show us.”

Scotty practically pulled Kirk over to a computer console the moment he stepped onto the bridge. A glowing map of the planet’s topography slowly spun on the screen, hundreds of yellow lines contorting themselves in smooth transition to form the planet below. The engineer jabbed his finger at a small, animated white blip emanating from a point off the coast of one of the larger land masses.

“It’s an electrical pulse, sir. At first, we thought it must have been a wee error in the scan, but we’ve re-analysed that area a few times, now, and it remains constant. It’s almost as if there’s some sort of large power reservoir there.”

“Could it be natural?” Spock asked, moving around Kirk to study the screen carefully. Scotty’s eyes gleamed.

“Ah, see, that’s just what we assumed, too! But to be sure, we took a detailed topographical scan of just this sector alone [3] .” He pressed a button, and the glowing lines twisted as the section of the coast that sported the blip enlarged. As it loaded, Kirk could make out a bird’s eye view of the rough, textured forest lining the coast, which morphed into the smoother undulation of the ocean a little further on.

And, smack bang in the middle of the ocean, only a few kilometres from the curve of the shoreline, a large structure stood rigid in the waves. A rectangular centre branched into several smaller corridors, each ending with what seemed to be giant spires — although the top-down viewpoint made it hard to tell. The golden lines of the diagram distorted any proper features, but despite the lack of detail it was clear that the structure was not at all natural.

Kirk cast a look at Spock. “I think we may have found where to beam to.”

Scotty turned to face him. “That’s the other thing, sir. The transporter just isn’t safe at the moment — I suspect it’s the electromagnetic energy that structure is throwing off. If you beam down, there’s a high possibility you won’t be beaming back up. Nasty way to die, sir.”

“Yes, thank you, Scott, that will be enough.” Kirk glanced at Spock. “I want to know what’s down there, Mister Spock.”

“We could take a shuttle, Captain,” Spock offered.

“My thoughts exactly. Spock, could you head down to engineering and help Scotty with some more detailed scans on the land masses near that structure? I want reports on potential landing sites as soon as possible.” Kirk crossed his arms. “Meet me in shuttle bay two with two security officers at 1400 hours. I’ll be in sick bay.”

“I don’t like this, Jim.” Bones sighed as they wandered toward shuttle bay two. 

“Your concern is noted, doctor.” Kirk nodded. “The bottom line is that we have good reason to believe that the _Dayhoff_ ’s crew escaped to Aradin III, and that this structure has something to do with that. We’re not going to know what happened until we get down to that planet.”

Bones met his eyes with a level, unamused gaze.

“I want you down on that planet with me, Bones.”

“I didn’t want to go into that ship, and I sure as hell don’t want to go down to that planet,” Bones hissed. 

Kirk sighed, at a loss for what to say. Bones’ expression softened.

“Look, Jim, I know I can’t change your mind. I don’t like it, but I’ll come.”

Kirk smiled. “At least you won’t have to use the transporter.”

“I don’t know whether that’s better or worse,” Bones grumbled.

They bumped into Spock at the shuttle bay doors. 

Kirk grinned, opening up his hands. “Ah, Mister Spock. Are we ready to go?”

“We are completing a final inventory and systems check,” Spock said. Indeed, the red-clad engineers were doing their final run over the shuttle behind him, passing their scanners over the engine, moving in and out of the entrance like ants. The scene looked so mundane, from where he was standing. Aradin III was hidden from view by the shuttle bay’s doors, and if Kirk really wanted he might have been able to trick himself into thinking they were just going down to Earth, or some other Federation planet.

Spock gestured to the two redshirts standing stoically behind him. “These are our security officers. Ensign Alder and Officer ch’Vosa.”

Kirk turned to greet them. He recognised them — he’d seen them around the ship, although had never had names to pair to their faces. Kirk assumed the one closest to him was Alder (he seemed to associate her quiff of dark hair with that name). That would mean the other, a serious looking andorian with his mouth in a line, must be ch’Vosa.

Kirk shook the woman’s hand. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but you’re Alder?”

“That I am,” she smiled. Her grin intrigued him. She had that same glitter in her eye that had glinted in the eyes of his younger self, a look about her that spoke of excitement and pure joy at being aboard this vessel. 

“Then you must be ch’Vosa,” Kirk nodded to the andorian, extending his hand. He didn’t seem to share Alder's good spirits, shaking his hand with a firm grip and a curt ‘captain’.

Spock spoke up from beside them, tapping at one of the engineer’s PADDs. “The technicians have finished their final check of the shuttle, captain. We are ready to depart.”

It was a funny feeling, heading down to a planet’s surface. Kirk had heard it described in all manner of ways. His mother had used to say that it was something akin to running down a hill, knowing that something new and exciting lay at the bottom; personally, he’d always felt like he was falling toward the unknown. 

Regardless of viewpoint, Kirk reckoned that the stab of excitement that came with descending to an unfamiliar planet was the same for everyone — running or falling. _This_ was the thrill he had chased on that first shuttle from earth; this was the thrill that had driven him through those exhausting long days at the academy. It was here, pulsing brightly at the centre of Aradin III, like the planet’s illustrious heart.

“Entering the atmosphere,” Spock announced. There were a few moments of suspended silence, broken by Kirk’s communicator chirping. 

“Scott to captain.” He sounded slightly worried. “Sir, we’ve been monitoring that wee electrical pulse from the building, and... it’s growing.”

“Growing? What do you mean?”

“Well, it appears to be gaining power,” Scotty informed, “and a lot of it, too. Almost as if it’s been gearing up to do something. Something big.”

The planet’s surface loomed before them; it looked perfectly calm as they rocketed toward it. “We’ll keep an eye out for anything once we’re planetside, Scotty. Keep us infor—”

He was cut off by a muffled yet loud _whump_ as something hit them, hard. Simultaneously, the lights flashed brighter than they’d ever shone before; a split second later, all of them exploded with loud pops, spitting glass at the small team inside. The lights that usually blinked and flashed on the helm’s control panel faded. The shuttle bucked and shook — Kirk found he had a hard time staying seated.

Spock’s fingers flew across the various screens and buttons set into the control panel. 

“What’s happening?” he yelled over the monstrous rumble of the shuttle shooting through the atmosphere.

“All systems are down.” Spock glanced at him for a split second, before returning his attention to the controls. “I will attempt a manual landing.”

“Airplane maneuver?” Kirk asked, trying to steady himself as the shuttle lurched violently.

Spock nodded. “I should still have manual control of the landing apparatus, despite the power failures. Shields are inoperational — the temperature will rise dramatically.”

“Hold on,” Kirk called over his shoulder. Bones scowled at him from the back. “It’s going to get hot in here.”

“I am attempting to access manual steering,” Spock announced, drawing Kirk’s attention back to him. With one hand gripping his seat for stability, Kirk tapped at the unresponsive screens. The _Enterprise_ ’s shuttles all possessed manual steering, but that was the least of their concerns. This was only a shuttle; it wasn’t equipped to deal with ordeals like this in the same way a starship was.

The shuttle lurched once more, and his head cracked against the control panel, sending sparks skittering through his vision. His head pounded, and he found he couldn’t quite control his fingers well enough to keep trying to access the steering mechanism. Fear whistled in his mind. He only hoped the shuttle didn’t completely rip apart midair, now that its shields were inoperative – he could imagine their pathetically vulnerable bodies plummeting toward a sea of leaves, ragdolling through the air until they hit the canopy and slipped below…

Spock shouted something as he managed to engage the landing apparatus, and Kirk was shoved away from the panel as the shuttle jerked into a righted position. The world shortened to a pinpoint as he hit the floor. The fuzziness in his head dulled the chaos around him to a muffled peace that coated his mind in syrup. He was beneath the surface, limbs heavy and unable to pull him above the angry waves churning overhead.

He sank slowly to the bottom.

The shuttle fell.

1\. Class M (Minshara) planets are ones considered suitable for humanoid life -- Earth is an example. Whilst natural class M planets were the first to be colonised, terraforming inhabitable planets into class M planets has also been utilised by humanity and the federation for some years. [1]

2\. Kelvin-type starship escape pods in the 2230s were equipped with manual steering. I'm taking some artistic liberty in saying that my pre-Antares model also had manual pods. Almost 100 years prior there are instances of pods using 'joystick' steering, so it's entirely likely anyway :) [2]

3\. I honestly don't know if they were able to do this in TOS, so once again a bit of artistic liberty :) [3]


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, potentially for the last time in an indefinite interval... I'm not sure when I'll get the next chance to write, unfortunately. Enjoy the chapter :)

There was a light flashing in the darkness above him.

It blinked on and off rhythmically, casting a red glow that barely illuminated his surroundings, before being snatched away into the gloom. Glow, gone, glow, gone; the cycle repeated, endlessly. There was a strange sense of urgency pressing at the back of his skull, but it felt muffled. All he could think about was the steady wink of the tiny red light above him. On, off, on, off, on off.

His sense of time was lost to the shadows that engulfed him. The blinking light morphed into the light of the stars he swam through within the confines of his mind. He felt like he was flying.

No. Not flying. Floating, he was floating. It was an odd sensation, like he had been plunged into a tank of water. He felt currents of air slip past him and closed his eyes, trying to extend his conscience to fill the world. He was the dirt, riddled with tree roots and bugs, he was the trees themselves, he was the small gusts of sultry breeze, he was the leaves caught up in them; tossing and tumbling through the air.

He opened his eyes again and felt the pound of the abyss above him, energy throbbing through him. His head hurt, but he was powerful and free. An elysian starscape stretched above him, fading into the deepness of space and darkness of reality. The stars whispered sweet noise to him, words that stroked his ears with all manner of sound. He drifted skyward, supine, his body swimming in a diamond studded sky.

There was a whisper from above him, a name. Was it his? The stars faded, morphing back into that single blinking light. On, off, on, off, glow, gone, glow gone. He could hear a voice somewhere near his head. The light jerked suddenly, then blinked off once more. It didn’t come back again.

Sunlight broke through his shell of darkness as its lid was shoved off. The rays pierced his eyes and blinded him. Distant planets swirled in its glorious radiance, calling to him with seductive voices. He swam up to meet them, weakly gripping the hand extended down toward him and letting it lift him from the wreckage of the shuttle and out of the vastness of his own mind.

  
  


The damage was immense. Kirk sat silently next to the scarred hull of their destroyed shuttle, head still spinning from striking the control panel. His right arm hung uselessly by his side. Kirk guessed it had been dislocated when his hands had been ripped from the control panel. 

Miraculously, most of their injuries were superficial — Alder had broken her ankle, Spock seemed completely healthy (although, knowing the Vulcan, Kirk hated to think what injuries he might be hiding, or playing off). Thankfully, the doctor had escaped with only cuts and bruises — he was kneeling by the side of the other security officer now.

ch’Vosa had taken the worst injuries out of the group; he lay limp and motionless on the ground, breathing but unresponsive.

Spock sat next to Kirk, their communicators all laid out around him on the grass. He’d been tinkering non-stop with communications, trying and failing to establish a connection with the  _ Enterprise _ . His attempts were entirely fruitless, of course. The shuttle and its electronics had been fried, including whatever gadgets and devices that had resided within it. The scene was eerily similar to that of the  _ Dayhoff _ .

Not for the first time in his life, Kirk wished he’d listened to Bones’ protests back up on the ship. If he’d given it some more thought, or ordered a more thorough analysis before rocketing off to the surface like a madman... He’d let his determination to play detective get the better of him, like it so often did — and look where they were, now.

_ At least the scenery’s nice _ , Kirk thought with a grim stab of humour. They’d carved a nice little scar in the verdant jungle of what he could only assume was the major land mass they’d been positioned over when the systems had failed. Behind them was an impromptu clearing made from broken tree trunks and squashed flowers. Before them lay a thick and probably dangerous tangle of wilderness. The air was pungent with the sickly smell of crushed foliage; the drone of a thousand insects resounded from the trees.

Spock shifted beside him, placing the final communicator next to the others. It lay like a beacon of defeat upon the virescent grass, casing smashed and mangled. Kirk nudged Spock gently.

“Well, Spock, thank you for trying,” he said, feeling like that was inadequate. “You... did your best.”

Spock didn’t look at him. He straightened his back and stood, stepping over the row of broken communicators. “I will examine the shuttle once more.”

Kirk watched him go, guilt surging through him like a flood. He tried to hold back the deluge — this small team needed his guidance more than anything, now. He wished he knew what to do, but the situation was as alien to him as the planet they were stuck on. No amount of Starfleet training could ever prepare him for  _ this _ .

“Jim?” Bones approached him, expression grim. “It’s hard to tell, with no equipment, but for the moment he appears to be stable.”

He nodded in the direction of ch’Vosa’s lifeless body. Alder was sitting beside him, head bowed, fingers clasped around one of his limp hands. Her injured leg was stretched out, ankle already swelling.

“I’m almost certain it’s spinal injuries,” Bones informed. “From the angle we hit the ground, he would have taken the full force of the impact. I’m surprised he’s not dead.”

“Will he pull through?” Kirk asked, dreading the response.

“I’m... not sure, Jim. Maybe I could do something for him, if I had some damn equipment, but half the buttons on my tricorder are fried and the rest of my kit is smashed into oblivion. He has nothing but luck on his side, now.”

The words sat like lead over Kirk’s head. A heavy ball of anger and shame writhed deep in his gut like a serpent. He looked away from the scene before him, suddenly unable to deal with the destruction he’d caused, fixing his eyes on the depth that lay beyond the tree trunks and trying to pretend he was someplace else. A breeze whispered through the trees, caressing his skin with her cooling embrace, running her fingers through his hair. It comforted him, to an extent.

Bones put a soft hand over his own, drawing his attention back to him. “Are you alright? How’s your shoulder holding up?”

Kirk made a face. “Painful.”

“It’s definitely dislocated,” Bones concluded as he scrutinised his dangling arm carefully, gently probing at it with ghost-like fingers. “You’re lucky, Jim — this is something I  _ can  _ treat, even with no equipment.”

“Oh, no, Bones, there’s no need,” Kirk smiled. “I can manage.”

“You and your damn martyr complex,” the doctor grumbled. “If you leave this, it’ll only get worse. I’m fixing it  _ now _ , whether you like it or not.”

Kirk sighed. “Fine. But make it quick.”

“It’ll take as long as it takes.” Bones gestured to him to lie down. “Seeing as we don’t have access to anaesthesia, I’d like you to get as comfortable as you can.”

Kirk hesitantly obeyed, stretching out his legs and letting his back press into the damp soil. There was no use arguing with Bones now; he was like a brick wall when it came to Kirk’s health. Grass tickled his skin. The sky stretched above him — somewhere up there was the  _ Enterprise _ , now captainless and no doubt confused. He had a fine crew, he knew they’d be fine without him, but it worried him nonetheless.

“Have you ever dislocated your shoulder before?” Bones asked, gently guiding his injured arm out to the side.

“Not myself, no ,” Kirk said, “but I’ve seen other people do it.”[1]

He winced as a needle of pain drove deep into him. The doctor paused his movements, giving him time to relax again.

“Remember to keep breathing,” Bones reminded (as soothingly as he could manage — although, for Bones, that wasn’t very), slowly easing his arm over his head. “I’m surprised, Jim. You strike me as the ‘breaking bones and dislocating limbs’ type of kid.”

“One or two. I fractured a leg on Vulcan, once .” He chuckled fondly. “I don’t think Spock was amused when he had to help me limp my way to the nearest osteogenic simulator.”[2]

Bones snorted, rotating Kirk’s hand at the joint a few times about his head. He paused once again.

“I’m about to try and pop it back in,” he warned. “Try to stay relaxed. The pain should go away pretty much immediately.”

Kirk fixed his eyes on the sky, watching clouds drift and morph with the wind. Bones slowly reached his arm toward the opposite shoulder, hands gentle but firm. He grunted as his shoulder gave, popping back into its socket — the wash of pain ebbed away, diminishing to a dull ache.

“Done,” Bones grunted. “If I hadn’t been your doctor for so many years I might even call you a perfect patient.”

Kirk pushed himself up, warily avoiding putting weight on his injured arm. “Can I use it?”

“Steer clear of violent movements. It’s not serious, fortunately, and if you’re careful you’ll recover quickly. I’ll get you doing some basic stretching exercises a little later on.” Bones sighed and sat back on his heels, cocking his head slightly. “I’d give you anti-inflammatories — damn it, even  _ ice _ — to help with the swelling and pain, but... well, you know the story.”

Kirk watched over his shoulder as Spock stepped from the twisted wreckage of the shuttle, looking as annoyed as a Vulcan could. Kirk slicked his eyes back to the sky, as if he’d be able to see the  _ Enterprise _ hovering in orbit above them like some giant metal wasp.

Of course, there was nothing but the clouds, framed against the everlasting sky. Kirk rubbed his injured shoulder thoughtfully.

“We seem to be in a bit of a debacle,” he sighed, more to himself than anyone else. Bones didn’t speak, only turned his eyes to mirror Kirk’s gaze into the heavens, searching for a ship that wasn’t there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. alright so for integrity's sake I actually did google 'has jim kirk ever dislocated his shoulder' (I couldn't remember a time in TOS where he had, but wanted to be sure), and I couldn't find anything saying he had, so... [1]
> 
> 2\. Shameless reference to that Star Trek video game - which, yes, is in fact AOS & also takes place on New Vulcan but hey reference for reference sake yknow? [2]

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this fic! It'll be quite long, so let's hope the journey is a fun one :)) I love comments! So if you have anything at all to comment, go ahead and let me know :)) I generally tend to reply to all comments :))


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